The description conjured a visceral image in everyone's minds—
Viewers shuddered, their scalps prickling with dread.
Beyond the horror, there was an overwhelming sense of helplessness.
For the survivors, this was a true dead end.
Advance?
Endless demons awaited.
Retreat?
Step too far from the door, and you'd melt on the spot.
What the hell were they supposed to do?
After reading this, the audience couldn't help but look at the surviving D-Class with pity.
[If you're asking what this place is like... It's big. Not just a farmhouse. It's like... those things stole fragments of space from everywhere and stitched them together haphazardly.]
[Some areas look like apartments. Others resemble shopping malls. One spot was exactly like my old high school closet—same checkered pattern and everything.]
For the first time, the audience grasped the concept of "spatial anomaly."
A structure with no logic.
A reality where physics had ceased to function.
[Some fragments aren't made of... matter. They're black, like shadow-stuff, mostly in well-lit areas. If light passes through, you can stick your hand in.]
[Don't. That's how we lost Torres. Something grabbed him and pulled him in. The hole was too small for his head, but... it got him anyway.]
A few sparse lines painted a nightmare.
The chatroom grew heavier with tension.
Then—
The next passage made everyone freeze.
[No way out. We figured that out too. Every door just leads to another room in this hellhouse or loops back. We can't live here.]
[But there's one thing you can do.]
[I couldn't manage it, but maybe you can. It won't save you—I doubt it—but... it's important. Someone has to do it, or those things will spill out and wreak havoc.]
The audience immediately recalled the earlier hint.
Closing the door.
But the agent's hopes were doomed to fail—
Because the one holding this note now...
Was a D-Class.
A disposable lab rat with every reason to hate the Foundation.
The irony was almost poetic.
Yet the audience kept reading.
[I found a way to stop them: Find their nest.]
[I only saw it once, briefly. We followed one after it took Denning's heart.]
[It carried the heart into what I assume is this place's core. Everything there was shadow-stuff. They'd hoarded every light source they could find—fluorescents, flashlights, candles, you name it.]
[More were being dragged in as I watched. At the center? A mountain of hearts. Each one torn open, piled carelessly.]
[The thing tossed Denning's heart onto the heap. It started beating, thrashing wildly. Then it split, and a new creature clawed its way out.]
[It writhed, growing and taking shape. The sickest part? The heart kept beating even as it tore apart. I swear I felt my own chest ache.]
Chatroom Reactions
"FUCK! This is next-level messed up."
"I'm gonna have nightmares for weeks."
"Gotta hand it to Foundation agents—mental fortitude of titans."
"So they farm hearts to make more monsters?!"
A horrifying realization dawned:
How many people had these things killed?
[I ran. I couldn't take it, understand? I wasn't trained for this eldritch bullshit.]
[I heard the others behind me. Don't know if they called out or if the monsters spotted us, but we got separated.]
[I found a closet—just big enough—and hid. Writing by penlight, turning it off when they're near. It's worked... so far.]
Three-Body Universe – Earth
Luo Ji exhaled sharply, his expression unreadable.
This passage struck a chord.
The agent had fled.
But Luo Ji couldn't—wouldn't—judge him.
He could almost see it:
A cornered agent, ammo depleted, huddled in a closet in this warped hellscape, scribbling by a dying light.
Documenting intel paid for in blood.
What kind of resolve did that take?
[I can't hold on much longer.]
[A few bullets left, but I can't pray anymore. Not after seeing that.]
[But you—if you're reading this, you're an agent too. Maybe tougher than me.]
[Destroy the nest. Tear apart every heart.]
[It might kill them. Only idea I've got. You'll probably die trying, but... you're dead anyway. So what's left to fear?]